Alternate title: Oops, I started by writing about Christmas pudding and ended up talking about C.S. Lewis and proposing a cure for Christmas materialism.
I've been thinking a lot about Christmas "magic," over the past few weeks. It is an odd word: we don't often use the adjective "magical" for much in our scientific, materialistic world any more. It seems strange that suddenly at this darkest time of year, "magic" is the word we use to describe the season. Children are often said to enjoy the "magic" of Christmas, but to lose it as they get older. Many commercials and advertisements proclaim that thier product or experience can revive the "magic" of Christmas. It seems to be something many of us experienced as kids, but lost over time.
Personally, I remember the process of losing the magic. When I was a child, the lights, the gifts, the "out of the ordinary" feeling of the season really did feel special. I would weep the day after Christmas, knowing that it would be a full year (which felt like eternity then) before Christmas would come again. As I outgrew toys, and gradually grew into the more jaded mindset of a young adult, the magic seemed to fade. I almost palpably felt it go - and I remember a small but intense feeling of panic as, one year when I was about 13 or 14, I realized that Christmas just didn't feel like it had when I was a kid. Over the next few years, I still enjoyed the family gatherings, the food, the music, the decorations, etc., but it wasn't the same. People grew up and moved away, parties were abandoned or changed, and the magic remained elusive.
The year that it returned, and began to grow again, was when I accidentally read almost the entire canon of C.S. Lewis non-fiction over Christmas break. I was a junior in college, and had a long list of books I was going to read in the month or so before I went back for the spring semester. Heading the list was "Mere Christianity," a book I somehow hadn't read until then. I remember that break so vividly - I think I spent almost the whole of it sitting on the brick hearth with my back to the fire at my parent's house, ripping through every Lewis book the Anderson University library had. In that exposure to Lewis, I came across an interetsting idea he had, which he named "longing" in his book Surprised by Joy. The idea was one of a feeling of "Northernness" as he called it - or a feeling of yearning for something beyond our world. Something deeper, higher, more beautiful, more lovely.
Maybe it was because I read the book at Christmas, but I suddenly realized that, as a child, this was the Christmas magic I had loved, and now longed for and missed. The problem with it is, as Lewis says "...I desired with almost sickening intensity something never to be described ... and then... found myself at the very same moment already falling out of that desire and wishing I were back in it" (Surprised by Joy). I don't think that this Longing can only be found at Christmas, but I think I, and it seems like many others, can experience a taste of it at that time. It is the time of year when a little bit of heaven, perhaps, comes to earth. Miracles seem possible - a child in a dirty manger may just be the incarnation of the Eternal Light.
Now before you become suspicious of me and think that this post is an attempt to convert you to Christianity, I want to reassure you: it is even worse than that. I actually want you not only to convert to Christianity, but to return with me to a far more ancient Christianity than the kind found in megachurches and underneath the flashing lights and on the stages of contemporary Christianity. I want you to return with me to the high vaulted stone ceilings of the cathedrals, to the cold smell of old churches, to the soft light of candles, and to the quiet prayers of people who actually really believed that spiritual things could walk on our temporal earth: that angels and demons both existed, and that your actions had an effect that echoed through eternity. If you won't join me in this journey in reality, at least imagine it along with me.
I imagine that many people of different faiths can feel a satisfaction for their Longing when they participate in the ancient rites of their religions: it is a deep human need that has existed for all of human history, but it is a need largely rejected and scoffed at by the modern scientific world. Regardless, it is a need and a desire that no ivory tower can completely annihilate. I think that, to a degree, the rise in both paganism and a soft form of witchcraft can be directly related to this need, and to a rejection of both the materialistic and purely scientific world of the 21st century. Of all the Christian denominations, it is the older ones (Anglicanism, Orthodoxy, Catholicism, even Reformed Presbyterianism) that seem to be growing the fastest. Not only that, but it is a growth largely fueled by young people, who feel that something has been missing in their lives, and have found it again in historical religious movements.
In fact, many of the very best parts of Christmas (the lights, the decorations, the food, the music, and the traditions) have their origin in Middle Ages, when the Church first began to celebrate Christmas. In a time when every year brings a new and glitzier iPhone with a shorter life-span, things that have been around for 1500 years have a certain appeal that should be entirely understandable. (Side note: one of the reasons I love Christmas as an adult is because everyone is suddenly interested in medieval things again.)
I grew up in the Presbyterian church, but providentially (see what I did there) in one that was what would be considered "high." In other words, the pastors wore robes, the church sang hymns, and the order of worship was both fixed and liturgical. When the reawakening of the Christmas magic happened for me, I found that sense of "joy" that year when I attended the Christmas eve services at this church. As the ancient choral music echoed around the vast, ethereal space, and we echoed in unison the words to creeds that existed when Rome was still powerful, I felt once again the tingle of the Other World and its magic: the supernatural feel that a sudden appearance of presents under the tree once stoked as a child.
When we moved to Durham, NC, we visited several Presbyterian churches, but failed to find one that we liked. We talked about it rationally, of course. We wanted a church with good preaching, good community, and (if possible) traditional music, but I think what went unsaid by both Aaron and me, is that we wanted a church where we the Longing could be, if ever so briefly, assuaged by the kind of joy that Lewis describes. We found that place one rainy January Sunday in the botanical garden building at UNC Chapel Hill, where an ACNA (Anglican) church plant worshipped. During our time at Holy Trinity, we fell in love with the liturgy, the church calendar, the high holy days, the traditions, and the diverse group of people who worshipped alongside us.
At the same time that we started to attend Holy Trinity, I was in the middle of my first year as a graduate student in English at NC State University. I was endeavoring, as much as is possible in an MA, to concentrate on medieval studies. Day in and day out, my mind was focused on older things - and that time was one of the happiest of my adult life. I felt again the child-like awe as I read "Gawain and the Green Knight" in Middle English and Arthur and his knights feasted around the Christmas table:
Original:
"Þis kyng lay at Camylot vpon Krystmasse
With mony luflych lorde, ledez of þe best,
Rekenly of þe Rounde Table alle þo rich breþer,
With rych reuel oryȝt and rechles merþes."
Tolkien's modern translation:
"This king lay at Camelot at Christmas-tide
with many a lovely lord, lieges most noble,
indeed of the Table Round all those tried brethren,
amid merriment unmatched and mirth without care"
As I read about the yearly traditions of the people of the Middle Ages, I started to consider the traditions of my family, my country, and my historical origins more closely. There is something in all of humankind, I think, that needs rituals. We need a way to mark the coming and the going of seasons, to celebrate life and death, and to come to grips with eternity, and our own temporality. Traditions like these are exactly what is missing in modernity - and we've never been more depressed. Our sense of Longing is snuffed out by Orwellian materialism, and any seriousness in relation to religion or the search for Joy is scoffed at by academics and internet trolls alike. Regardless, the Christmases in the years since my rediscovery of what that childhood "magic" gave me a glimpse of, have been rich and full of a deep sense of Joy. As Frodo says in The Fellowship of the Ring - "Rich are the hours, though short they seem..."
Of course I still get caught up in the busyness. I still worry about finding the perfect presents. I still get stressed about family or social gatherings where it seems that no one in the room has the same basic beliefs as the rest. I still get tired of people playing Mariah Cary on repeat in the stores (actually jokes, I don't get tired of that). But Aaron and I work consciously, and with great effort, to incorporate as many old traditions (and make new ones) as we can during the season.
The "magic' of Christmas isn't something you get easily - in fact, it may take you changing your whole set of beliefs. But it is real, and it does exist. When properly considered, it is a Joy that can be summoned all year, of course. Even at the beach in July sunshine the Joy can be felt when looking at the vast and sparkling otherness of the ocean. But I think it can be most easily felt at this time of year - this darkest, coldest, time of year, when light seems to shine out most brightly.
Well, that is not where I thought this blog post was headed. I genuinely planned on mostly sharing the traditions that Aaron and I keep, in order to help reinvigorate a time of year that can be rather hard for some folks. But as I started writing, I realized that those things were merely the manifestation of a much deeper pattern of thought and belief that Aaron and I hold - and that to enact the traditions without the beliefs would be pretty empty. If you happen to hate Christianity and somehow read this far, kudos to you! I'm always glad to discuss my beliefs - I just very rarely thrown them out into the internet vacuum. So if anything I said did pique your interest, let me know! My email is megcsanders@gmail.com. Feel free to send me hate mail, just please do it nicely.
In order to stave off the hate mail, or alternatively to share with you some things that have brought Aaron and me joy, below are a few of our favorite things to do/listen to/eat/watch etc. at Christmas time.
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Aaron and Meg's own personal traditions:
Clove Oranges: Both Aaron and my family's made these as crafts and decorations when we were young. Basically you just buy oranges and whole cloves, and use the cloves to create patterns on the oranges. It helps if you use a nail to prick the orange before you push the cloves in - otherwise your hands will be pretty beat up afterwards - cloves can fight back! Side note: clove orange-making is a medieval tradition! Aaron also loves creating a pineapple tree every year. The tree is made by sticking a pineapple on top of a stand that really looks like a medieval torture machine, and then sticking apples and fresh greenery below the tree... it is hard to describe: just look it up.
Watching the King's Christmas Speech. Actually, we've never watched the King's (of the UK obviously) Christmas speech, because he's never made one before. However, our family (Campbell side) started watching the Queen's annual Christmas speech a few years back, and it has become a beloved tradition. I think it plays into that idea of continuity, ancientry, and tradition that we love (plus, it scratches that Tory itch I have from time to time.)
Lessons and Carols: Although the service for Nine Lessons and Carols wasn't created until the early twentieth century, many of the usual hymns are much older. This wonderful service is a beautiful reminder of the light in the darkness, and many old churches (and new ones too) have a lesson at Christmas time. I love listening to the ones that Kings College Cambridge has done in the past - most of them are on YouTube! My favorite is the one from 1992 (good year), which has a little documentary about the choir boys at the end - fascinating!
Gawain and the Green Knight: My favorite medieval text! I love to read Tolkien's version, or listen to a version of it on audiobook. (This one isn't great, but it is free!)
Christmas movies: Of course! We aren't complete luddites. Our favorites are It's a Wonderful Life, Home Alone, White Christmas, and, for some reason, we've lumped the first Narnia movie into the Christmas category. We also love the Christmas episodes of Doctor Who.
Music: In addition to most Christmas hymns, Aaron and I both have a Christmas album we listened to growing up, that we still love to play at Christmas time. Mine is One Wintry Night by Jerry Read Smith and Lisa Marie Smith, and Aaron's is An Old English Christmas by Craig Duncan.
Special foods: Humans have marked special days throughout history with food - whether it be Hamantashen for Purim, or barbeque for Fourth of July. In our family, we've had Mock Turtle Soup served at Christmas for literally hundreds of years. My grandmother's aunt's recipe is the one we use, and honestly it cannot be beat. My grandmother used to make a batch on Thanksgiving, and we would eat it for Christmas supper (it only gets better the longer it ages in the freezer, and we would make batches and have it several times). My mom carried on the tradition, and now both I and my brother Zan make a batch every year. We've put our own spins on it - mom's is usually partially blended, mine has more spices, and Zan's more meat... but the essential recipe is the same, and the creation of it marks the beginning of the Christmas season. The recipe is below if you want to try it - typed on a typewriter! I haven't ever tried the "Country Fair Soup," but maybe I will one of these days.
In 2020 I introduced a new food tradition in our house: Christmas pudding. While Americans may imagine this is some sort of chocolate goopy mess, Brits will know this is a cake-like, fruit-and-brandy-filled steamed dessert topped with brandy buttercream and, before that, soaked in brandy and lit on fire! You can find my recipe here. It isn't difficult, it just takes a whole day to steam.
Of course there are lots of other little things we do, probably many of the same things done the world over at this time of year. But that should suffice for now. I am curious to hear about your Christmas traditions, your thoughts on Christmas "magic" and whether you end up trying my recipes. Feel free to email me or drop a comment!
Wishing you a very, very merry Christmas.